My husband and I have a great cyber relationship. There are days we email, gchat, and text more than we actually interact when he arrives home from work...sadly enough. But, in a way, it is good and healthy. We can express things through writing we may otherwise never say. And sometimes it saves us from yelling up and down the stairs or having to get out of bed--even when we are under the same roof and not in two different cities.
Case in point: It is currently 4:18 a.m. I just got a text from Vic--"Can you not sleep?"
"No. What shall we do?"
"Rest. I have to get back to sleep. I have work in the morning."
And then a phone call from him 5 minutes later: "What are you doing?"
"Just getting some milk (and cookies)" (He dosen't need to know his Oompa Loompa-ish pregnant wife is eating more of HIS homemade cookies at 4 in the morning. I'm starting to tip the scales with my 40 pound weight gain. So I just left it at milk.)
"Are you safe?"
"Yes. I'm safe. Go to sleep. I love you."
He asked if I am safe. He asked me if I am SAFE. I paused for a brief moment before I answered. I was a little unsure of exactly what he was asking. But he knows how much I am hurting. How much I TRULY feel like I am going to lose my mind lately. (There are times I think I've already lost it.) He knows how hormonal and pregnant I am. He knows how much I love and miss my Lucy. How tortured I feel. He cares. He wants to save me from myself--at 4:22 in the morning. I love him. Please God, send Lucy to watch over him in his sleep and whisper in his ear how much he is loved. Give him strength to make it through another day. He has upheld me for so long, whether he knows it or not.
While talking with my sister the other night, I mentioned that some of the most profound lessons I have learned lately have been because of things Vic has said (or emailed) to me. I am, time and time again, amazed at the man I married. Oh, our relationship is not perfect. I still place his empty cereal bowl in the dishwasher every single morning after he has left for work and wonder, "WHY can't he take the two seconds to do that?" I still wish he would lay and cuddle with me at night--look into my eyes and just talk or cry, or say nothing at all instead of read, read, read. (Ok, so I do get a good cuddle every once in a while. And I do love it that he is passionate about reading. But who says I can't have the best of both worlds? Not Miley Cyrus) I still daydream of him rising at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning (while I sleep until 9, of course) to work on projects around the house. Truth be told--he has many a quirk, many a stubborn opinion, and let's not forget how long I've been working on his posture. (The curse of being a dancer--I can't help it). We don't have a fairytale marriage. (He's married to me after all. Insert list of quirks and qualities he has to put up with here). But he is exactly what I need and I love him now more than ever.
One said "lesson", or truth--point to ponder, came in an email last week. I had called him crying (read: blubbering, sniffling, sobbing) and he gently said, "I can't talk right now, but I'll send you an email."
"I have had 6 mortal lives. One life I lived until I was 19 years old with my parents and siblings. I lived another life in Argentina for 2 years as a missionary. Then I lived what seemed a long, sometimes wonderful, sometimes "miserable" life as a single young man. Then I had the most wonderful life as a married man and a father to Lucy. The briefest of my lives lasted a number of days when my angel had an accident, went to the hospital and then home to our Savior. Now I am living a life, difficult, though sometimes sweet, and in this life my sweet Lucy doesn't live with me, and doesn't interact with me. She did in another life, not this one. I know the other lives happened but they aren't this one. I'm not sure what the connection between the lives is. There is no question they have related parts, but they are separate lives. I don't know how to connect them. I don't know that I want to because I don't know if I could handle it. They are separate. I assume that is part of the atonement - the at-one-ment; that the Savior will make me one-- not just with He and my Heavenly Father, but with myself. He will reconcile my different lives, my different parts. He will stitch me back together. He will make me whole."
"i don't know if you will ever be able to know how much i love you.
this is so beautiful.
i can't believe a human being can cry this much. day in and day out."
And then I shared this scripture which I just happened to open up to moments earlier:
"and as for the perils which i am called to pass through, they seem but a small thing to me as the envy and wrath of man have been my common lot all the days of my life; and for what cause it seems mysterious, unless I was ordained from before the foundation of the world for some good end, or bad...God knoweth all these things, whether it be good or bad. But nevertheless, deep water is what i am wont to swim in. it has become second nature to me; and i feel, like Paul, to glory in tribulation; for this day has the god of my fathers delivered me out of them all, and will deliver me from henceforth. behold and lo, i shall triumph..."
Doctrine and Covenants Section 127:2
I love my husband. He is perfect just the way he is. Bad posture, big pores and all.
I am so very weary. So tired of being sick. Scared. Exhausted. Depressed.
I am counting down the days until I hold my son in my arms. Scared. Hopeful.
No one can take away my pain. It is mine alone. These past few weeks have felt as debilitating as the beginning of this journey. There is no describing the hurt, the ache, the world in which I live.
I am loved. I am humbled. I am weak.
Vic is only days away from beginning his 7th life with his son, Peter. I pray it is a wonderful and healing one to last for years on end.
It is now 5:20 a.m. Vic called to tell me my cough is keeping him awake. Truth.
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